Under Their Noses
by Candela89
Summary: Friends turned out to be enemies. They were losing the war. A Ritual not meant for him sends him back through time. Warning: mention of rape in first chapter.


**Under their noses**

 **A/N: Here is a little something for you guys and Girls, hope you like.**

* * *

 _Chapter 0 – Prologue – Blast to the Past_

* * *

 _ **September 7**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2048 – 8 PM**_

The sixty eight year old Unspeakable Harry Potter ran down the remnants of what was once Knockturn Alley after the black cloaked man (not that his title meant much now), the only lead the Light side (not Dumbledore-Light, Thank You) had to find the whereabouts of the latest Dark Lord, leader of the Dark in the Third Wizarding War, known to muggles as the Third World War. For that was what it was; a war that had spread throughout the Wizarding world and later leaked out into the mundane world when there was no more land to conquer, no more wizards to slay, no more magical creatures to enslave.

The Dark Lord was in no hurry to wage his war, carefully executing his plans, leading the bastard to reach whatever goal he set for himself far more often than not. And the Light side could not do a thing to stop his onslaught, for he had no quarrels with muggles merely because they were non-magical, thus he had incorporated the best of both worlds and was slowly, but surely, winning his war.

The Light side were naively stubborn in incorporating the advances muggles could provide, however, drawing out the war, it was now over 20 years since the first attack. While the Dark Lord staying safely in his hideout, where ever that was.

After working as an Auror for the better part of 25 years, Harry had been approached by the Head Unspeakable a few years before the Third War, when they had first begun to see the first signs of a new threat on the rise. And though he was no Hermione, he had been part of a few interesting research projects in his time as Unspeakable, one of which was in his least favorite subject; Potion, believe it or not. How far from "the Good Old days" they were now.

Refocusing on the present, Harry saw the man round a corner and smiled under his obscured hood at the blunder the man just made, Knockturn Alley saw spindling ever which way making it hard to get a shoot at someone, but Diagon Alley was long and straight, and though it was full of rubble now days it was a far better place for a showdown. Rounding the corner himself, he came face to face with the man, who had stopped in the middle of the street, wand pointing at Harry but was out of breath.

"What's _wrong_ with you? You should be exhausted by now!" the man yelled.

Harry coked his head slightly to one side. "A light Jog and a school-grade duel with a kid is hardly exhausting, you know." he answered in a neutral tone.

The man made a face between despair and anger upon hearing that. "You're not human."

"Hmm, I haven't checked in a while, I've been otherwise occupied lately." Harry responded evenly.

"Fuck You!" the man screeched, reached into his pocked and threw a small object at Harry.

He had only a split second to recognize it for what it was; a flash grenade, magically enhanced if the glowing runes were any indication. Turning his head away, getting into a crouch and backing away while leveling his wand at his opponent in one fluid motion, Harry began to throwing stunners in the general direction of the man while he moved to cover and shielded his eyes from the flash. His deduction that it was enhanced was confirmed when a painfully blinding light penetrated his arm that covered his face, his Unspeakable hood enchantments that removed some of the most intense light and his closed eyelids like he had been staring into the flash with eyes wide open.

Howling in pain and clawing at his eyes, he summoned the will to reach into his robe and take out a pain relieve potion, un-corking it and downing it quickly, he was relieved when the pain resided, though not completely. With tears flowing like rivers from his eyes he slowly opened them and was relieved when he could still see, his vision was filled with white spots, but at least he was not made blind by the flash.

Hearing rustling nearby he shot of a wide range wind spell, and by the sound of it, managed to knock the other man of his feet. Blinking rapidly the spots on his vision slowly disappeared, he could now at least make out the general direction of his enemy. From what little he could see, and by the sound of wood being moved, the man had crashed into the wall of one of the old storefronts lining the Alley. But instead of hearing curses being thrown at him, magical of verbal, he only heard the other man grunting like he had hit his head to hard.

Taking the time now that his assailant was out for a while, he pointed his wand at his still blurry eyes and muttered "Floremus". A pain that almost rivaled that of the pain caused by the flash grenade seared through his eyes when he cast the spell. Howling once again in pain he though _"This is the reason I'm not a Healer"_ , while rubbing his eyes. The pain was now rapidly subsiding, and the white spots were disappearing one by one, he could not heal his sight completely, but enough to fight by.

Once his vision was good enough, he looked over to the fallen man, only to see him shake of the worst effect of what was probably a nasty concussion, and look at Harry with burning fury in his eyes. But he had dropped his wand when he hit the wall, so Harry was able to send a quick stunner at him, finishing the fight.

" _Huh... That was easy"_ Harry thought.

After taking a look around to make sure no other followers of the Dark Lord was loitering about, he bent down and took the mans wand away, searched his pockets for any dangerous and/or useful items. Finding none he grumbled under his breath, the fight they had engaged in before the man fled down Knockturn Alley must have expended all his toys, explains why he fled. Finding nothing of use, Harry stood up and surveyed the remnants of Diagon Alley. The once tall and proud marble bank of Gringott's was now nothing but a blackened pile of rubble, the wooden stores lining the sides of the Alley was more or less burnt to the ground, and where once the Leaky Cauldron stood, only a gaping hole into muggle London remained.

Seeing a store that was still mostly standing (what was once Ollivander's) Harry levitated the other man over to the store, and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor. He cast a "Repario" on a chair that was by the shattered window, and transfigured some shards of glass into a rope, which he made indestructible and bound the man with it.

Taking out a small vile from his pocket, he let three drops of the clear liquid fall on the mans tongue, and then Enervated him. The man woke with a start, and began looking around confused before the potion took effect, and his eyes glassed over, and he became calm.

"What is your name?" Harry asked.

"Fred Sirius Malfoy" the man answered in a monotone voice.

Malfoy? As far as Harry knew, the Malfoy line ended when Lucius was sentenced to the veil, Draco committed suicide sometime back in 2020 after his mother Narcissa fell of the face of the earth a year or two before that. He thought that with her family dead, she would resume using her maiden name of Black, but apparently not. 5 galleons said that "Fred Sirius" was just names to spite him. _"Yeah, egocentric and dark thoughts, I know. But that's what happens then you fight two wars."_ he though with a chuckle. Though he _was_ more or less responsible for her husband and son's death.

"Are you a follower of the Dark Lord?"

"Yes"

"Have you met him?"

Harry did not expect a positive to this question, as in over 20 years no one had seamed to have meat the Dark Lord, he was just too careful.

"Yes"

"Hav... " Harry started to ask the next question when the answer finally registered in his mind.

"Who is he?"

Come on, please, tell me who he is.

"My Father"

Huh?

"Your father?"

"Yes"

"What's his name?"

"I don't know"

Well... bollocks.

Running a hand through his hair absentmindedly, thinking about what to ask next. This son of the Dark Lord was the best shot they had at dealing a blow to the Dark Side. Not really giving much though to the question he asked

"Who's you mother?"

"Narcissa Druella Malfoy"

That gave Harry pause. Narcissa was his second cousin once removed **(A/N: Hope I got that right)** , and his only living relative, well now he apparently had two, if Narcissa was still alive. Shaking his head to clear it of the confusing family tree, he refocused on the questioning. While interesting, his relations was not was what important.

"Where are the Dark Lord's hideout?"

"I don't know"

Well... it was worth a shot. A moment later a sudden though hit him.

"Where are Narcissa?"

"Saint James Church, Stalmine, Lancashire"

THANK YOU MY LUCKY STAR! It was a lead, not what he was hoping for, but it was miles better than what he was expecting. In his euphoria Harry couldn't help but blur out

"Yes! You just made your mother so proud!"

"No"

"Hu? What?"

"My mother will never be proud of me"

Ummm... Ok, I'll bite. This is far more information than we have gotten over the last ten years combined anyway.

"Why?"

"I was born from rape"

Ok, fair enough. I guess quite a few mothers would see the child as the result of some most likely horrible memories. Seeing that Malfoy was beginning to work his yaw, indicating that the potion effect was wearing of. Damn! Not yet.

"What are the defenses of Saint James Church?"

It took a moment before Malfoy answered

"A quad-layered battle ward."

"Nothing else?"

Another pause.

"No"

Malfoy shook his head, no longer under the effects of the truth serum. Locking eyes with Harry he sneered (a far cry from the typical Malfoy-sneer) and was about to say something, but Harry did not give him a chance to. Stunning him and fitting him with a portkey, Malfoy was whisked away to a safe house. Once Malfoy was gone he spent a few minutes erasing the trace amount of magic left by the port key, eliminating any one from following.

When he was sure that no one could follow, he apparated away to random location after random location, careful to leave as few clues to his destination as possible. After over 20 jumps all over the country Harry finally arrived at the Command Center of the Light Side (more like the hideout of the resistance, now days), and was immediately surrounded by dozens of wands pointing his way.

"Snuffel's Home" he called out, hands to his sides.

The guards stilled their hands, but did not put them away. A woman in her early twenties stepped forward, with a suspicious look on her face.

"When You and I first met, what did I wear?" she asked.

Damn, that's a hard one under normal circumstances. What is it with girls and their clothes? Let's see... ah, yes. It was Christmas, mm... yes I remember.

"Red, knee-long skirt with fluffy white rim, a matching tank-top, brown leather boots and a green Santa hat. It was Christmas of 2031, and you were singing for the orphans" he said confidently.

The girl visibly relaxed and lowered her wand, and as she did the other guards did too. She almost ran up to him, engulfing him in a hug.

"It's good to see you again, Harry" she whispered in his ear, the relive clearly heard in her voice.

"It's good to see you too, Melinda" he responded with just as much feelings in his voice.

Pulling back from the hug, Melinda looked at Harry.

"I take it that it was you that sent over a prisoner?"

"Yeah, this one actually have some information. I just hope it will lead some were."

Melinda's eyes widened and her eyebrows disappeared under her fringe. "Really?"

"Yep" he said as he began walking towards the "barracks", the run, the fight, the other run and the other fight had left his clothes sticking to his skin uncomfortable, and he had not slept well the last four month that he had been away chasing down Malfoy.

"Apparently, his name is _Fred Sirius Malfoy_ , born to Narcissa Malfoy by rape by the Dark Lord." he explained, gesturing in the general direction of the pitiful excuse of a prison they had.

"Narcissa?" Melinda peaked up hearing that.

"Yeah, Narcissa Druella Malfoy nee Black. Why?"

"Oh, nothing really. I just found some documents concerning her and her – I assume – sisters. While you were gone, I were part of a salvage team to London, we passed by Grimmauld Place and I got curious about the place, having heard your stories. Anyway we dug through the rubble, and I found these Blood Contracts in a cache under the floor in the kitchen."

Harry shrugged. "Not like that will help us much now." he said darkly

"No, Andromeda and Bellatrix are dead, so their Contracts are not even worth the parchment they were written on. And naturally Narcissa's have been damaged, so we can't use it on her."

"What exactly is a Blood Contract anyway?" Harry asked

Melinda smiled at him, cocked her head in the direction on her room, and a minute later they stood in Melinda's room. She shifted around the papers on her table till she found what she was looking for, and handed them to Harry.

"You haven't thought about cleaning your room, young lady?" he asked with a smirk

Her completely mature answer was to stick out her tongue at him, and smirking herself.

"So what is this?" he asked more seriously.

"This is the Blood Contract of Bellatrix Violetta Black. Read this part." she said pointing at a section of the document near the middle.

Harry read the section she pointed at, and when he finished he looked at Melinda with curiosity, and she had a face of barley concealed excitement.

"Is this for real?"

"I won't make you read the whole thing, but for all intents and purposes, this is a Written form of the Imperious Curse. It must be signed willingly and without any potions or anything else affecting their minds upon signing. They were probably quite young when they signed this, considering the scrawling that barley passes for writing at the bottom." she said and pointed at the bottom of the document. Indeed, the writing looked like the writing of a five or six year old.

"Well, to bad we can't use this." Harry said ruefully.

"Yeah." Melinda agreed. Taking back the documents Harry was handing her, she put them back on the table, then turned back to Harry with her hands in her back pockets. "Why don't you return to your room, have a shover, a nice meal and get some sleep. You've earned it. I'm gonna go see if we can get anything out of our prisoner."

"Narcissa is at Saint James Church, Stalmine, Lancashire." Harry told her as they left her room.

Melinda's head snapped to look at Harry so fast she must have gotten whiplash, and here eyes were wide in surprise. It only lasted a second or two, before she squealed and jumped to hug him, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Aoutch. Be careful with your elders." he lightly scolded her, but still had a smile on his face.

* * *

Harry was not selected to go to Lancashire, as he had accumulated quite a few injuries over the past four month, not to mention almost going blind. Instead he remained at the hideout, planing future missions and organizing salvage teams. Three weeks after his return Melinda returned with Narcissa, taking one look at her Harry frowned.

"That can't be good" he muttered when he saw her being brought towards the "hospital wing".

"What?" the man standing beside him asked, looking up from the map he was drawing the latest enemy lines on.

Harry gestured to Narcissa "She's like a hundred years old and pregnant, that can't be good for her body." he clarified.

The man made a grimaced "Urgh. Humping a granny, now _that_ is disgusting"

Harry started to go towards the hospital wing, but Melinda stopped him before he could get even halfway.

"Her mind is basically broken, coupled with her old age and her condition, she is unlikely to live through the night. She only survived this long because of potions being forces into her bloodstream. I don't think she would recognize you even if you went in there." she said in a low voice, tinged with sadness.

Harry only nodded, gave Melinda a hug, and then returned to the command table, though he kept glancing in the direction of the hospital.

* * *

Harry awoke to the sound of a loud bang, and the shaking of his bed. With practiced ease, he threw on his old Unspeakable Robes, grabbed his wand and ran out of his room and into chaos. Their hideout housed almost 160 people, though, almost half was muggle, and a large portion of the wizards and witches were to young to hold a wand. From the screams and explosions that could be heard from every direction, the Dark Lord's forces had found their hideout, most likely tailing Melinda's team.

Running towards the nearest entrance, he had to duck as he rounded the last corner to avoid a body flying directly at him. Out of shock and surprise, he looked at the body and felt like his blood was replaced by ice. There, in a crumpled heap on the floor, lay the remnants of Melinda. His shock cost him though, as he took a Reducto in the back, his Unspeakable Robes could take a lot of damage, but a high powered Reducto was not on that list.

Grunting in pain, he turned to face his assailants, counting at least 15. He sent a Blasting Curse into the midst of the advancing enemies, not really bothering to aim, as he was almost bound to hit someone in the tight corridor they were fighting in. Glancing around to see how many he had fighting on his side, his stomach fell as he counted only five... no, make that four, not counting him.

"Retreat!" he barked "Fall back to Command!"

Harry could barley make out similar orders being yelled out through out the base. One of his people, a young boy, hardly more than 15, turned his back on the enemy and was rewarded with a Piercing Hex through the heart.

"Fuck!" Harry swore under his breath, casting every curse, hex and jinx he could think of to give the others the few seconds they needed to retreat relatively safely.

Rounding the corner himself, Harry's attention was brought back from where he just retreated by the sound of something metallic landing behind him. Eyes going wide, he brought his wand to bare, but was not quite fast enough to cast a Protego before the Pipe Bomb detonated.

* * *

For a moment Harry was flying, soaring through the wide blue sky. He was not on a broom, nor was he a bird, he just glided on the winds in the warmth under the shining sun. Looking to his side, he saw Ron, flying about like he was. Ron looked at Harry with a smile, and said "Hey, mate. Fancy seeing you here." Harry didn't answer, he somehow knew that there was no need for words, so he just smiled back at his first friend. He turned his head to look the other way, and saw Hermione, and she was, like him and Ron, floating around like they did not have a care in the world. "Hey Harry. What can we learn here?" she asked. Harry laughed, he missed them both so much. His first friends his best friends, until they disappeared in the early 2020's.

Harry frowned, how could they disappear when they were right here beside him? He last was them before the Christmas of his Daughter Lily's second year at Hogwarts, on the platform 9 ¾ before they parted to return to their respective homes. Suddenly, the last boss of the Unspeakable, Croaker, was floating there in front of him. "Don't you think that's enough playing around, kid?" Croaker asked. Harry just stared stupidly at him for a moment, and just as he was about to as what he meant, he started falling, screaming, tumbling end over end towards the ground far below.

But as he fell, Harry could not help but notice that the scenery changed. The ground morphed into a wall, the horizon turned into walls, a floor and a ceiling. And the sky, the lovely clear blue sky, became the hallway he was just blasted down from. And with that coherent thought his world exploded into one of pain, as he hit the far wall, his already damaged back taking the brunt of the hit.

With his vision swimming for the second time this month, he began looking for his wand, jaw shut tight in an attempt to stave of the worst of the pain. After fumbling around for a few moments his hand finally landed on a familiar piece of wood. Relief washed over him, but was soon replaced by dread, it didn't feel right, it was not a warm feeling. He squinted his eyes to look at his wand... or, at least what was left of it; he held half his was but the other half was no where to be seen. For a moment Harry was overcome by grief, there were no more wand makers alive, and if there were any, they were smart enough to hide from the Dark Lord. His wand was gone, and though he could preform limited wandless magic, he was for all intents and purposes crippled, magically speaking.

Another explosion from down the corridor literally shook him out of his grief, that and the constant cries of the many children being tortured, and the women no doubt being raped on top of being tortured. Focusing on the now, he began limping towards the nearest weapon cash, while they did not have any spare wands, they had a descent stock of muggle guns. As he was slowly making his way down towards the center of the hideout, and the pain from hitting the wall earlier subsided, he became aware of his broken leg. " _Fan-fucking-tastick_ " he thought " _Like we don't have enough problems as it is_ ".

Once he reached the crossing outside the command center his broken leg decided that it had sustained enough damage, and would no longer obey his commands. DAMN IT ALL TO HELL! Taking a left, he proceeded to crawl the rest of the way towards the weapon cash, but halfway down the corridor he heard a voice behind him.

"Well, well. Look what we have here, boys. A Crawler." the man in the lead laughed, sending the other behind him into fits of laughter as well.

Harry could literary feel his brains most primal areas awakening, and he began to franticly crawl faster towards the weapons locker, it was only a few meters away DAMN IT! Harry barley registered the lead man stop laughing abruptly.

"What's this then? Little granny is coming out to join the play?"

That did register in Harry's brain, and he looked to his left and into the grey and overclouded eyes of Narcissa Malfoy. The beauty that she once had was long gone, her black and silver hair gray, knotted and unhealthy looking, she was standing in just her underwear and a bra, showing of more scars then _he_ had, and what skin was not scared was wrinkled and sickly colored. Her stomach had a large diagonal cut, the remnants of a s-sec procedure, given that she was not longer pregnant. And in her left hand she held her elmwood wand in her left hand.

Harry lay there, on the floor, bloodied and beaten. Narcissa stood there, in the doorway to the hospital wing, old and weary. They looked at each other for but a second, but it felt like half an eternity, before she fell to her knees unceremoniously, her fragile bones breaking by the fall. The Dark Lord's followers began laughing as they saw the sight before them, dismissing two cripples as a non-threat.

With what was clearly Narcissa's final bit of strength, she crawled over to Harry and grabbed his hand and pressed her wand into his, keeping her body in between the wand and the Dark Cronies. She looked into his eyes, even though her eyes was so cloudy Harry doubted she could see anything at all. Her breath became ragged, but she managed to whisper "Kill Him for me... Please."

Harry's attention was drawn to his right hand, her left hand, clasping his, with her wand in between. There was the faintest of glow surrounding the wand, and Harry could feel the unforgettable sensation of having a wand that recognized you as worthy of it in his hands. He looked back up at Narcissa to thank her, but only saw the empty vessel of a once proud woman. "Thank You" he whispered anyway, before he brought his hand up to close her eyes.

Glancing at the men laughing by the entrance to the Command Center, he was again filled with dread as he noticed that the explosions had seized, looking back towards the weapons locker he saw another group of black clad followers of the Dark Lord. He could hear one or two women crying and screaming, probably being raped.

Fighting a loosing battle with despair, Harry looked at the largest group of 12, the one by the Command Center, summoned all of his remaining magical strength, knowing it would be his last spell. Feeling a strange sense of peace come over him in his last moment amongst the living, he leveled Narcissa's wand at the miniature reactor that was installed over the central table in the CC, and in a low voice said his last words, feeling every ounce of magic leave his body to do his final bidding.

" _Bombarda_ "

* * *

Harry's feet caught on a stone as his feet was dragged over the ground. " _Lift your feet's, Harry_ " he heard a voice say, that sounded suspiciously like Ginny. Grunting in response, he fought sleep and opened his eyes to witness the beauty that was his wife. Harry smiled at her "Sorry, love" he mumbled.

Ginny huffed. "You say so, but in the end it'll be me that have to clean up your mess."

"Yeah, sorry. I'll improve" he said sheepishly.

The next moment Harry was standing in a green field, a light wind blowing. There were children laughing, two or maybe three of them. Suddenly something hit him in the back of his knee and he fell to the ground.

"Come on Dad! Catch us if you can" a boy, ten years old, or there abouts said.

"I'm'a Hipp'Giff!" the youngest exclaimed, a girl, maybe six or seven.

"Or are you to old, old man?" the younger boy taunted, but without any heat, as he had an earsplitting grin on his face.

Harry returned the grin and bolted after the kids, who squealed in delight. But Harry had not taken many steppes before a gut wrenching pain made him double over, clutching his hands to his stomach. Opening his eyes he saw that the ground, while covered in grass, it was not green but a dead brown. Craning his neck to look up, he saw that he was being carried towards a stone formation up ahead.

Moving his arms slowly due to exhaustion, he noticed that his hands were bound, and the smidge of magic that remained in his body told him that these were magic suppressing shackles, not that he had any magic left to use anyway. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized that he was naked aside from the shackles, so no wand. Again, he hand no magic to use, but a wand in his hand made him calm. As he was dragged towards the stone formation he recognized it for what it was: Stonehenge. This can't be good.

Getting closer still, he noticed that there were at least 20 or so black clad figures standing in a circle outside of Stonehenge, and it sounded like they were chanting something. There were also something purple surrounding the ancient site, Magical Circles and Runes, he realized when the men dragging him stopped just a few meters away from the site.

For maybe five minutes or so they just stood there, not saying anything, and Harry was to beat up to start conversation at this point. Just listening to the cloaked men chanting made him want to sleep, but just as he was about to give in to the feeling, and praying that he would wake up in a better place, he heard a voice that he had not heard in over 25 years.

"Marvelous, isn't it?"

A voice he longed to hear again, but dreading the reunion all the same, the voice, and the words it carried, made him feel nothing but sadness, dread... and betrayal.

"Hello, Ron." Harry responded, looking to his right, and into the eyes of his first friend.

Ron grinned at him, in that grin that only he could put on his face. "Hey, mate. Fancy seeing you here."

Harry just looked at him, not bothering to hide what he was feeling at that moment.

"Aww... don't be like that, Mate." Ron scowled. "After all, I made this just for you, you know." he said waving his arms, indicating the site they stood on.

"What is it?" Harry asked, feeling twice his age, but knowing Ron (or at least, he _thought_ he knew Ron) he would not be satisfied until Harry acknowledged his efforts.

"Well... When I say _I_ , I really mean Hermy" he started to explain "I'm no Hermione, but I'm but as dim as you all thought I was, you see." he turned to the ritual being preformed, eyes glistering like a child at Christmas. "This will give me all that should have been mine from the beginning."

Not really having the strength to care, Harry asked "So you used Hermione and every one else that was smarter than you to further you own goal? Congratz Mate."

Ron looked at him like Harry just told him he had bought the Chudley Cannons for his eleventh birthday. "Thanks Mate. You know, I really have to thank you and Hermione for giving me this idea, you know."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, I mean, back when we were kids, in third or forth year..." Ron paused looking at the sky, and the lone crow circling above, crowing quietly. A second later the crow exploded in a fireworks of blood, bone and feathers. **"SHUT UP! I'M TRYING TO THINK HERE!"**

The men working on the ritual was too focused on the ritual to notice the commotion, but the ones holding onto Harry flinched, hard. He did not think quite straight, having recently walked (or in this case, was dragged) away from three explosion induced concussions, though he guessed it was muscle memory by this point, but he found himself grabbing the knife that was fastened by the belt of the man holding his left arm. The knife was small enough to hide with his shackles, and because the men flinched (more like jumped) no one seemed to notice him taking it.

Reaching up to his ear with his right hand, he touched his earlobe, and took a calming breath, Ron continued "Were was I? Oh, yeah. So it was like in our forth year, you and Hermy was running all over the place, right? And then, by the end of the year, when I lay there in the hospital after almost having lost my leg to a rabid dog, you two used a Time Turner to go of on yet another adventure without me, yet again."

"It was third year" Harry mumbled

"What was that?" Ron asked, snapping his head towards Harry.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, so one of the goons standing behind him spoke up.

"He said it was third year, My Lord"

A green curse flew towards the man that had spoken.

" **I WASN'T ASKING YOU!"**

But Harry was not listening, something Ron said caught up with his coherent thoughts.

" _You two used a Time Turner to go of on yet another adventure without me"_

Harry's mind seemed to be stuck on that phrase, refusing to comprehend what was more than likely happening.

" _A Time Turner"_

Was Ron trying to change the past?

" _This will give me all that should have been mine from the beginning."_

Crap!

Taking a closer look at the runes that surrounded Stonehenge, Harry felt a wave of primal fear wash over him. He was no master in runes, but he knew enough to know some of the clusters that was drawn on the ground in even intervals around the site. Ron saw his recognition and got an ear splitting grin, but not a innocent happy one, this was a grin worthy of Voldemort.

"Yesss. I sssee you know what thisss isss, well, it doesss not matter in a few minutesss, nothing will." he said, in a voice that reminded him of too many horrors for comfort, a voice that even after all these years still haunted his dreams.

Harry lunged at Ron, but was held back but the big guys holding his arms.

"Whoa, there, Mate! Let's not get all exited, now will'ya? Not in your condition." he said, his smirk still plastered on his face, his right hand touching his earlobe.

"You will not succeed." Harry hissed back.

Ron cocked his head to the side "No?" he began laughing. "I think you are still underestimating me, _Potter_. While I admit to being unable to fully grasp the intricacies of this particular ritual, I know more than you'll ever know."

 _Are you completely crazy?_ Harry thought, but knew better than to say anything out loud, he just stared at him with a whithering look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that." Ron said, the friend-persona apparently abandoned. "You'll distract me from my monologue."

Seeing that Harry didn't interrupt him further, he continued.

"This ritual will is a continuation of the magic that makes up the Time Turners, not all of them were destroyed when we raided the Ministry, you see." he clasped his hand behind his back and began pacing in front of Harry.

"Though the tiny artifact could not store any more temporal energy, than to allow for a few measly hours of time travel, this ritual is enough to take me back years."

 _My_ suspicion _that you are crazy are beginning to solidify,_ Mate. Harry thought sarcastically, but kept giving Ron a whithering look.

"Once I'm back" he continued "I will take the money you should have given me, I will torture any man that stands in my way to death, rape any woman, and enslave every child if I have to! I WILL BE KNOWN THROUGHOUT THE WORLD AS THE RIGHTFUL LEADER THAT I AM! **I WILL BE A GOD!** "

 _Yep. He's crazy._

Breathing heavily for a few moments, Ron finally got the worst of his anger under control, his right hand touched his earlobe.

"You will watch my ascension _Potter_ " he whispered, leaning close to Harry.

There was a flash of light, the powder used to draw the circles and runes caught on fire. The Dark Lord glanced at the ritual, before turning back to Harry, leaning in closer and whispered in his ear.

"And in your darkest hour, you will be powerless to do _anything_ about it."

The rune circles began to rotate slowly, the two outer most circles that was outside the stone formation rotating clockwise, taking the runes in between them with them as they rotated. The other two circles in the center leaving a clear area of about one meter in diameter clear, rotating the other way, while the myriad of rune clusters on the stones and the ground between the two rotating bands swirled around seemingly whit out any pattern.

" _You will come to know the true meaning of Despair_ " he finished in an almost inaudible whisper.

"Fuck You" was all Harry said in response.

The Dark Lord threw his head back and laughed a bellowing laugh, a minute later, still laughing, he moved in towards the center of the ritual.

 _Oh, no you don't_. Harry though, flicking out his stolen blade, slashing the hand of the man on his left and continued the motion, bringing the dagger up to the goon on the rights head. As he cut the first man the howl of pain made the second man turn his head to see what had happened, only to get a dagger in his eye. The angel was so devastating that the second man didn't even register the shock or seeing a dagger flying towards his face, he died before he even knew what hit him.

The Dark Lord turned to look at the commotion behind him, only to see an enraged Harry Potter charging at him. He fell to the ground as Harry's shoulder connected with the Dark Lord's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to drop his wand. Just as he recovered from the blow, he turned to see his followers start to charge towards the ritual circle.

" **STAY OUT, YOU FOOLS! THE RITUAL MUST NOT BE INTERRUPTED!"**

 _To late_ Harry thought as he used the shackles to chatter the Dark Lord's nose with a sickening Thud.

The Dark Lord stapled backwards, groggy after the last blow, but he quickly threw the dizziness of, and raised his wand, only to realize he had lost it, and as he was looking at his empty hand with a stupid look of incomprehension on his face, he didn't see Harry advancing on him again until he felt a sharp pain in his knee, as it was kicked to bend the wrong way.

Seeing the Dark Lord fall to the ground, Harry lifted his foot to stomp in his face, but just as he brought the foot down, the Dark Lord rolled away from harm, quickly spun to his feet's, and landed a blow in Harry's side with enough force to break what was probably the only whole rib left in his body.

Seeing that the Dark Lords blow got him close to his knee, Harry brought it up with as much of his rapidly dwindling strength as he could, right into the Dark Lords jaw. The Dark Lord staggered back, giving of a gurgling sound and spitting teeth. He looked at Harry with murder in his eyes, and in blind rage charged him again, bringing his right fist to bear. Harry took a stance to bat the blow away, but found that the Dark Lord's hand just kept going like he had not parried at all.

The fist stuck just above his left eye, with enough force to blackening Harry's vision permanently in that eye. The blow also sent him tumbling to the ground, with a ringing in his ears that was not encouraging in the least. As he looked up he saw the Dark Lord put his knee on Harry's stomach, pining him on the ground, as blow after blow rained down on his face.

He only stopped then his attention was brought away from hitting the limp form on the ground to the shouting from outside the circle: the ritual was about to activate.

The Dark Lord regained his maniacal grin, rose to his feet, leaned over Harry's form and whispered

"This is the end for you, _Potter_ "

Then he proceeded to calmly walk towards the center of the ritual, reveling in the knowledge that what he wanted would be his.

* * *

Harry was laying on the ground, it was not particularly soft, but not uncomfortable hard either. There was a glow coming from all around him, and the only though he could gather the strength to think was _this is not like the time in the Forbidding Forrest, is this the end for real?_. He could not even summon the strength to close his eyes, Merlin, he was tired. All his life, struggle after struggle after struggle.

His abusive relatives, the ridiculing of his school mates, the death of his godfather, the Dark sympathizers that took his wife and children away, the disappearance of his friends one by one, finding out Dumbledore, the man he had looked up to almost all his life, had been a Dark Lord behind the Curtain, living through the Third War, watching their chances of victory dwindle down to nothing, only to finally find a candle in the darkness, only for it to be snuffed out by the latest Dark Lord, the one person he thought was his best of friends.

So tired. Whats was the point?

It started raining, but Harry didn't care, and even if he did, he didn't have the strength to shield his eyes. His eye, he reminded himself, I only have one now. Not that it matters any more.

So tired.

He could hear the spatter of the rain, as it fell to the ground all around him. He could hear the cheers of the Dark Lords followers, surrounding the circle. He could hear the Dark Lord himself laughing. But what did it matter?

So tired.

Sound faded out, he could no longer feel the rain on his face.

A person filled his view. A woman. Red hair. Green eyes. His eyes.

" _Mum?_ " it was barely above a whisper, less than that, as he no longer had the strength use his voice.

"Yes, my son. I'm here now, don't you worry about a thing." she said smiling down at him

His mother was joined by another person. A man. Black wild hair. Glasses.

" _Dad?_ "

"Were here now, son. We are so proud of you. But there is one more thing you need to do, before you join us." he said

" _Why? I'm So Tired._ "

"I know baby. I know you are. But you need to do this." his mother said with tears in her eyes

" _Why? I ca... I can't. I'm so tired of it all._ "

"You must do this last thing son. I know you can't just stand by and watch the world burn." his father said

"It is not who you are, my baby." his mother continued with no small amount of pride in her voice.

Harry didn't say anything right away. Some part of his mind recognized what it would mean if he gave up now, if he just lay down and did nothing. But another part of him was to tired to care. He had taken down one of the greatest Dark Lords of all times when he was but a child, and was slandered and ridiculed for his efforts.

He saw his father bend down and cupped Harry's cheek with his large, and warm hand affectionately, standing up his mother bend down towards him, and kiss his forehead, before she stood back up and grabbed his fathers hand, smiling with pride that only a parent can do. And then they walked away.

His mind warred against itself, but a fleeting moment later one side won, as his mothers last words reverberated throughout his mind.

" _It is not who you are, my baby."_

Summoning strength he didn't have he turned his head to look at the Dark Lord, who was spinning slowly in the center of the ritual, arms out wide. He looked at the now pulsing runes, they were spinning so fast they could barley be made out from one another. He looked at the Dark Lords followers, who were throwing their hands into the air, celebrating the impending ascension of their leader.

Rolling over, to exhausted to comprehend the signals of damage and fatigue his body was sending him, he slowly got to his hands and knees, and from there shakily stood up. The Dark Lord was standing with his back towards him. Harry took a steep, but almost fell immediately. He managed to right himself before he fell over completely, so he took another step towards the Dark Lord. And a third step. A fourth step, he was gaining speed, a fifth, sixth seventh step. The Dark Lord had almost turned back towards Harry. Eight, nine, ten. The Dark Lord saw Harry coming towards him, his eyes widened. Eleven, twelve, thirteen. He was in a full sprint now. The Dark Lord began to crouch, and yelled in anger. Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen.

His shoulder struck low, just above the waist, and the Dark Lord was sent flying away from the rituals center, and landed on the outer most ring. While Harry's momentum had been completely arrested when he tackled the Dark Lord, he now lay there, in the dead center of a ritualistic circle, intended to do Merlin knows what.

To tired to move away from where he way.

To tired to even try.

To tired to close his eyes.

To tired to draw a single breath.

The ritual activated, destroying time and space as is did it's intended work.

* * *

Harry awoke with a start, and promptly hit his head, causing him to immediately lay back down, cursing under his breath. After a moment for the pain to subside, he opened his eyes and saw only blackness. Looking around in confusion his eyes finally landed on four red glowing (blurry) digits, that was eerily familiar, that read 07:32.

Blinking stupidly at the clock, his mind refused to kick into gear for a minute or so, before it kicked into high gear. But before he had even a chance to form a coherent thought, there was a loud banging on wood, followed by a shrill voice.

"Up! Get up, Boy!"

There was a metallic sound and then footsteps moving away. And in the momentary calmness, he voiced his barely fully formed thought

" _Well... Fuck_ "


End file.
